(no subject)
so we don't put it in riddles this time, right
so there's this girl.
and she wants me and she says she wants me and gives me her number and it's really very obvious what i ought to do
y'know what i do?
nothing.
fucking nothing. at all.
we hang out twice, the second time she says, "you know you don't have to talk in riddles, if you wanna get down, all you gotta do is say so"
"haha im kidding."
"kind of"
know what i say?
"kind of?"
/nods my head.
that's what i say.
i hate to say it, paw-paw, i think the williams name ends with me.
tomorrow is dB.
I'm gonna film alot of it, when i'm not busy dancing until all the suffering of the samsara comes rushing out of my swollen joints.
i'm gonna film the conferences and hopefully get so inspired that i go spend all my money and buy everything i need to make music and dig a hole and crawl into the hole and make music and make music that i've been so afraid of until everything that's all scrunched up and wrong in my head explodes and reshapes into the most beautiful little sunshine and i ride it all the way into the night sky where we found no stars and one rainbow.
my mind is a diamond and it just needs a lot of polishing.
there are also horrible cracks in it and it doesn't work right and a lot of the time i get really frustrated with just how me i am.
maybe by the end of the week i'll have some sort of wild lifechanging experience and finally grow the balls i need to dissapear and blast off and leave this little podunk town behind forever.
it's not that i hate you, woodinville, it's that i hate me-you.
the muck heap bubbles and sucks around my rotting bones, they quiver with anticipation.
somehow, i have to get out of here.
"we're all gonna die down here."
"no. we're getting out. all of us."
so there's this girl.
and she wants me and she says she wants me and gives me her number and it's really very obvious what i ought to do
y'know what i do?
nothing.
fucking nothing. at all.
we hang out twice, the second time she says, "you know you don't have to talk in riddles, if you wanna get down, all you gotta do is say so"
"haha im kidding."
"kind of"
know what i say?
"kind of?"
/nods my head.
that's what i say.
i hate to say it, paw-paw, i think the williams name ends with me.
tomorrow is dB.
I'm gonna film alot of it, when i'm not busy dancing until all the suffering of the samsara comes rushing out of my swollen joints.
i'm gonna film the conferences and hopefully get so inspired that i go spend all my money and buy everything i need to make music and dig a hole and crawl into the hole and make music and make music that i've been so afraid of until everything that's all scrunched up and wrong in my head explodes and reshapes into the most beautiful little sunshine and i ride it all the way into the night sky where we found no stars and one rainbow.
my mind is a diamond and it just needs a lot of polishing.
there are also horrible cracks in it and it doesn't work right and a lot of the time i get really frustrated with just how me i am.
maybe by the end of the week i'll have some sort of wild lifechanging experience and finally grow the balls i need to dissapear and blast off and leave this little podunk town behind forever.
it's not that i hate you, woodinville, it's that i hate me-you.
the muck heap bubbles and sucks around my rotting bones, they quiver with anticipation.
somehow, i have to get out of here.
"we're all gonna die down here."
"no. we're getting out. all of us."